Breath of Yesterday (The Curse Series) (18 page)

My nerves were raw, and all sorts of sensations washed over me simultaneously. The racket of the voices in the hall, the smell of the food, and the heat emanating from the great fireplace all blurred to one fuzzy image overloading my senses. Only Payton’s upset voice suddenly made me prick my ears. He and Sean were arguing.

“You think what about me?” Sean said. He sounded livid.

“That you’re chasing every single skirt you see. And don’t even try to deny it.”

“
Amadáin!
I just wanted to talk with her,” Sean defended himself.

“Talk, Brother? That’s why you had to sneak into the barn? Don’t play me for a fool,
mo
bràthair
!”

“You can believe whatever you want to believe! But if you’re interested in what Aline told me in confidence, then shut up and listen.”

Sean’s eyes met mine, and he tried to lower his voice so I couldn’t hear him anymore over all the noise in the hall. Besides, something else was grabbing my attention at the head of the table.

A plump woman with gray hair arranged in neat waves was the cause of the ruckus. She’d yanked the goblet from clan chief Fingal’s hand and was working herself into a very spirited frenzy.

“And believe that just because you’re a big man nothing can stop you! But I’m telling you this only once: Keep up with the booze, and I will not stitch you up again when you tear open your wound in a state of drunken stupor,” she threatened, shaking her fist at him.

I leaned over the table and whispered at Payton, who was also following the spectacle.

“Who is that? Is she crazy?”

Payton grinned. “That’s the honorable Nanny Mac-Millan. You could say she’s the heart and soul of this castle.”

“The
heart and soul
? She sounds like a gangsta rapper!”

“Gangsta…
what?
Don’t let her hear you say that,” Payton warned me, massaging the back of his head. “Otherwise she’ll teach you some manners and give you a good ol’ slap across the head.”

I was confused. Fingal now actually got up from his chair and allowed himself to be led away from the table by the old lady, like a schoolboy ordered to the front of the class.

“What? I don’t understand.…”

“Nanny MacMillan was our wet nurse when we were children. She’s also a healer, a midwife, and a teacher. She manages our household, even though that’s not her job at all. Father is only too happy to let her do this, because we’ve been lacking the female touch ever since Mother died. Nanny MacMillan fills that void.”

Laird and Nanny were almost out the door, when Fingal suddenly stopped and turned around. He called one of the manservants to him and pointed in my direction. The boy immediately came over to me.

It was obvious that he had never talked to a Cameron before. I could see a mix of fear and disdain in his eyes when he stopped to inform me that I was expected in the clan chief’s chambers right away.

“In his chambers?” I turned to Payton. “I’m not sure I can find my way back there.”

“I’ll take you. You can go back to work, Michael.”

The young servant didn’t need to be told twice and quickly disappeared amid the other servants. One look into Payton’s sparkling eyes, and I had to admit that I preferred his company a thousand times over. Endlessly relieved that I had survived dining next to Nathaira, I allowed my sweet Highlander to escort me from the Great Hall.

We could hear Nanny MacMillan’s voice out in the hallway. She sounded irritated still, but the worried, tender undertone in her voice was unmistakable.

After a brief knock, Payton opened the door, and we entered. A young, delicate-looking girl stood close to the door inside. She wore a tidy apron around her waist and a bonnet over her blond braids, and she looked like she was trying to be invisible. She was probably usually on the receiving end of such angry outbursts, which made her feel guilty and in the wrong even when Nanny MacMillan was scolding someone else.

The tough old lady had undressed the clan chief as much as necessary to remove the bandages. She was now carefully touching and checking the wound, and when Fingal flinched under her touch, she was off again.

“Right you are. Pretend to be a little whippersnapper who knows no pain down in the Great Hall, but then cringe at the slightest touch when you’re in your private chambers!”

“Be quiet, woman! Your constant nagging is impossible to bear!” Fingal exclaimed, motioning for me to step closer. “By the way, this is Mistress Cameron. She took out the arrow.”

I curtsied to the older woman. She briefly looked me up and down before giving a nod and stepping aside so that I could join her at Fingal’s bedside.

“It looks really good,” she praised me, continuing to check the wound with her fingers. “I couldn’t have done it better, but I’m worried about the inflammation.”

Even my untrained eye told me that the wound was inflamed, and I didn’t know what to do about it.

“I tried to keep the wound as clean as possible, and I boiled the rags first,” I explained.

“We need some witch hazel and a little garlic, some yarrow, and a little help from our Lord, and he’ll be just fine.” She shooed away the blond girl to collect the herbs and then busied herself grabbing strips of linen from the basket by her feet.

“You were very lucky that the arrow didn’t kill you,” she explained to the laird. “If it had hit your chest just slightly higher, then we would only be left with your cold, damp grave to cry over. In the future, you should leave such things to your sons,” she suggested.

Fingal snorted. “In the future, I hope
such things
will not happen. I am tired of fighting. The older I get, the more I long for peace.”

He smiled at me. “What about you, lassie? Are you the peaceful kind, or do you have war and battle in your blood?”

Even though he had said those words seemingly off-handedly, the back of my neck tingled.

“I can fight, sir, for things that are important to me. But I am not interested in eternal blood feuds.”

“That’s sensible, child,” Nanny MacMillan interjected while thrusting a small bowl of brownish ointment into my hands. “There, apply this to the edges of the wound,” she ordered, and then made Fingal take a sip from a bottle. It caused him to retch and gasp for air.

“Are you trying to poison me, woman?” he bellowed, wiping his mouth and angrily glaring at the old lady.

“What do you think? And now lie still so the child may apply the ointment properly.”

Nothing much else happened for the next few hours. We prepared a brew from the ingredients the servant girl had brought, soaked the strips of linen cloth in it, and redressed Fingal’s wound. Nanny MacMillan would remove the herbal poultice and reapply the bandages later on that night. She thanked me for my help and handed me over to Payton, who had been waiting patiently for us to finish our work.

Payton now led me back through the darkened hallways, and a pale sliver of moonlight occasionally lit our path.

My days spent in this era didn’t really leave me with enough time to think. There was so much going through my mind right now. Payton, who was waiting for me back home; Payton, who was walking by my side. Fingal and his recovery, and the future that lay ahead of them all.

I was especially stressed about that thing with Kyle because I had grown to like him more every day. And then there was the horrible vision in which I had witnessed myself killing Ross. All of this and more was going through my mind, so I didn’t give it another thought when Payton entered my room before me. But as soon as he closed the door behind us, he touched my arm and turned me around to face him. One look into his hungry eyes, and I knew what was on his mind.

“Sam, I…May I kiss you?”

I felt how difficult it was for him to hold back, and couldn’t say a word. Instead, I raised my face up to him. I could tell that he really wanted to pull me into his arms, but he kept his passions under control and kissed me very gently and then gingerly placed his hands around my waist.

“It’s…,” he mumbled very close to my lips, “this gown. You look positively enchanting. I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since I saw you in this dress, and I’ve thought about nothing else all evening.”

His touch almost burned my skin, and I trembled under the onslaught of his kisses. Letting go of all fear, I allowed my hands to wander underneath his shirt. Lord, he felt better than I could ever have imagined. I was elated. His kisses were medicine for my aching soul, which had been so anxious and restless with worry. But i
n
this moment, only he and I existed. Only our love: stronger than time, stronger than the hatred the clans held for each other.
Stronger than reason
.

The moment of peaceful bliss only lasted a short while. When my hand caressed his chest, coaxing a soft groan from him, I noticed the missing bandage and the missing scar that I was so used to feeling on him. Suddenly I felt bad to the core. As if I were cheating on Future Payton with Past Payton. Was I putting Future Payton’s life at risk because I was throwing myself into Past Payton’s arms?

God, I was utterly confused. Either way he was Payton, right? So were my feelings for him right or wrong? I shrunk back and wiped the stray hairs from my face that had come loose during our stormy caresses.

“Payton, wait.” I pushed him away. “We have to stop. I can’t do this.”

He ran his hands over his face, nodding quietly. “You’re right. It’s insane, and it’s dangerous. I have never felt like this before, never had such a sense of trust with anyone else.”

“We are meant for each other, Payton. You have to believe that. It’s no coincidence that I’m here, but I can’t stay with you. I will have to leave you again soon. There’s no other way if I want to save you. Payton, when everything is all over, you will forget about me. You will forget about me, but you will be alive. Just trust me on this.”

Payton leaned against the door and didn’t say a word. Finally, he took a deep breath as if faced with a difficult task.

“Come here,
mo luaidh,
please.”

I did. I laid my head against his heart and snuggled into his chest. His hands ran up and down my back.

“Whatever you say, Sam—I will trust you, so help me God! I don’t know why I do, but I trust you, even though I don’t understand a single word you’re telling me.”

I closed my eyes and only heard the beating of his heart. This heart was everything I ever wanted. No matter the era. I couldn’t allow it to stop.

“Then help me, please,” I pleaded.

He pressed me against his chest and kissed the top of my head.

“How?”

“I have to find Vanora. Vanora, the witch. And then I have to get back to the little stone cottage where Ross and his brothers first found me.”

“Cottage? What cottage?” he asked, suddenly sounding irritated.

I broke away from his embrace because his body, his all-too-familiar scent, was too unnerving.

“You know, the cottage by Loch Duich. I don’t know where exactly it is, but it’s near the shoreline and at the foot of the Five Sisters. I have to find it.”

“That’s impossible.” He shook his head. “What you’re saying makes no sense, Sam.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, because whatever building you are referring to—they most certainly did not take you prisoner at Loch Duich.”

“They did! I’m sure of it!” I disagreed emphatically.

“It’s impossible,
mo luaidh
. The mountains you are talking about are on Cameron territory. No Stuart would ever dare to advance that far into Cameron land.”

“Stuart? I’m talking about Ross and his brothers,” I explained, feeling unsettled.

Had my journey through time taken me not only to a different era but to a different place entirely? Was that even possible? After all, I had not seen any traces of the cemetery when I arrived. But the water: I had seen water. I recalled the fog that was, as I had assumed then, rising from the lakeshore. I put my palm to my forehead, trying to remember.

“Ross and his brothers
are
Stuarts. Why else would they have taken you prisoner?”

If I was confused before, now I was completely lost. I sat down on the edge of the bed, and Payton poured some whiskey into a cup and handed it to me.

“Ross told me his name was Galbraith,” I said flatly, cautiously nipping at my drink.

Payton had poured a cup for himself, too.

“That’s right. But Duncan and Dougal are Stuarts. They have the same mother, but their father is Grant Stuart. The clan chief. Shortly after Duncan and Dougal’s birth, he recognized them as his own, gave them his name, and sent for them so they would live with him and be raised inside his castle.”

“But…”

I didn’t know what to believe anymore. Where exactly had these men picked me up? I would need help from Ross if I wanted to find the portal leading back to my own century.

“Sam, it’s been a hard day for you. You should go to bed and close your pretty eyes. Let’s keep saving my life for tomorrow, because I worry you might collapse on me from exhaustion.”

The whiskey had indeed made me tired. I suppressed a yawn and tried to object, but my headstrong Highlander put his finger on my lips.

“Shhh,
mo luaidh
. I swear to you that I will love you for all time, even if you don’t manage to save my life.”

He pulled the
sgian dhu
from his belt.

“I swear to you,” he said, making a cut across his hand, “that I will forgive you if you don’t succeed in saving me. I will love you forever nonetheless, and I will die in the hope of having been worthy of your love.”

Payton dipped the bloody dagger in his whiskey, then carelessly dropped it to the floor as he raised his cup to my trembling lips.

“Payton, I…”

I wanted to reassure him that I would save him, that I didn’t need his oath. I had no intention of failing.

“No, my sweet Sam. Drink—and then kiss me one last time before I disappear into the cold, dark night,” he demanded.

And like a puppet on destiny’s strings, I obeyed.